Something in the Shadows
by Isolde Jansma
Summary: What's on a Borg cube when it's abandoned... anything or nothing? An idea that suddenly appeared in my head after I 'saw' one of my cats with Borg implants. It's getting bigger and more complex than I expected, and a little darker. Please review. Ta!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything here - the characters are but my playthings for a while (except for my story, and my mind, for that most definitely belongs to me. I hope!) NADA on the money too. Meh…**

**Something in the Shadows.**

**By**

**Isolde Jansma**

B'Elanna gasped and stepped backwards, surprised, as the torchlight had definitely highlighted something scurrying across the floor of the derelict cube. She almost wished she hadn't volunteered for the reconnaissance team because she hated Borg ships with a passion; they were always so damn dark, and musty, hot. But, Seven needed some things for her alcove and she wanted to help as much as she could. Despite her misgivings in the early days, Seven was an important member of the Voyager crew and she knew Chakotay had feelings for her he was only just beginning to realise, and the fact that the woman seemed to be in the process of forming reciprocal emotions was just too good to be true.

She swung the light beam over the floor area again, and bent down to take a better look, getting to her knees and getting her head into a previously unseen gap. What did she have here, she wondered, and was so lost in her examination that she didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind her?

"Lieutenant," said a cool voice, and Torres started, again, but smacked her head firmly against the wall.

"Ow… shit, that hurt," she growled, and withdrew far enough to turn the torchlight upwards to shine it into Seven's face. "Geez, you could have warned me you were coming." B'Elanna rubbed her head.

The woman frowned slightly, bemused by this strange request, but decided to dismiss it as yet another piece of evidence in the jigsaw that was social behaviour. "We are returning to Voyager as we have obtained the items that we require. Have you retrieved what you wanted?"

The engineer rose to her feet after tucking the torch into her belt and dusted off her hands on her trousers. "Yeah, thanks." As the other woman turned to head back to the other members of the team, B'Elanna said, "I think I saw something move down there. Have you any ideas about it, Seven?" She pointed at the small opening she had been investigating.

Seven deliberated. "May I have your light?" As Torres handed it over to her, Seven crouched down to take a look at the opening, and then got to her knees. She pushed her head into the hole.

In the silence that followed, B'Elanna waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the ambient darkness once more, and she scoured the section of wall, listening keenly to everything. Or nothing? Then she heard it, and Seven did too, because the woman's body had tensed slightly.

"Well?" she asked, a tad impatiently.

Seven withdrew from the confined space and rose to her feet. "There is something there."

"Right," said B'Elanna, waiting for more information but when none was forthcoming asked, "What do you think it is?"

"It is a parasitic life form," said Seven disinterestedly. "Borg cubes are occasionally infested and require cleansing of the organisms as they can cause serious malfunctions in many systems. This may be why this cube is deserted."

"These parasites, are they like rats or something?"

Seven considered. "I do not know, as I have never seen a specimen of this species."

B'Elanna gaped at her, not quite believing what she had heard. "Never seen one?"

"I believe that is –"

"Yes, ok, I get it." The engineer shook her head in disbelief. She tapped her comm. badge. "Lieutenant Tuvok, I've found something unusual that could do with some investigation. Permission for the xeno-biology team to be notified?"

"Have you advised the Captain, Lieutenant, of your findings yet?"

"No, sir."

"I suggest you take the necessary tricorder readings and bring them to a debriefing in the ready room."

"Aye, sir," said the engineer, and took more readings to augment the ones she had already. She pointed at the hole and indicated that Seven had better get on with it too. When she was satisfied that she had obtained as much as feasible she tapped her comm. badge again. "Two to transport, Voyager."

* * *

Captain Janeway stood gazing out of the portal of the ready room and watched the cube as they matched its orbit around the moon of a rocky, insignificant planet with no mineral reserve or other redeeming feature, as that also turned about its primary in an endless dance. They had scanned the planet below very thoroughly, and though there was an atmosphere, it was a very young atmosphere, hot, acidic and volatile with copious amounts of carbon dioxide, and no tectonic plates to speak of. There **were** some very impressive volcanoes that put a few of the more famous of those in the Alpha Quadrant in doubt of their pole position. Even from orbit, a plume of violent magna could be seen spewing up into the upper atmosphere, a golden jet of luminosity.

As the door to the ready room opened, she turned to face some of the away team that had only too recently been on that damn intriguing cube. She smiled in greeting, and came towards the table. "What have you got?"

"Captain," Tuvok greeted her, and ran his eyes over the PADD in his hands before looking up to meet his commanding officer's quizzical look. "Lieutenant Torres has found something of an irregularity on the cube. It is an erratic and highly unusual bio signature."

"Really?" Janeway took the PADD from Tuvok and began to read, her interest piqued, scanning the lines of information quickly. She directed her attention to the younger woman, and took in the form of Seven standing close beside her. "Report, please."

Torres looked at Seven, but could see she would get no help there and launched into her findings. "I found a gap in the wall of the craft after I thought I had seen something scuttling about in the shadows, Captain. And... as the cube is supposed to be vacant I was a little disturbed at first." She handed over her own documentation to the Captain. "I asked Seven to check that I had not been imagining it, and she informed me that sometimes Borg ships have infestations of 'parasites' that require the ship to be temporarily abandoned."

Janeway was **definitely** interested now, tilted her head as she finished reading, and then she looked up at Seven. "Would you like to elaborate on these 'parasites', Seven?"

The woman looked a little perplexed. "It is as I have said, Captain. These things are parasites and cubes are fumigated to remove them. I have never seen a member of the species that causes the parasitism, and the Borg does not tolerate them once a cube becomes too heavily infested to function at optimum performance. As to whether this particular cube has been abandoned totally because of such, or due to some other as yet undiscovered disaster I do not know."

The Captain nodded, and asked, "But how do they survive on a ship which has no supplies, foodstuffs and so on? Surely that is of interest to us all, Seven, and I would have thought you to realise the import of something of this nature? "

"I… had not, Captain," admitted Seven slowly. "As a member of the collective such matters were not worthy attention, as it was merely a routine that would need occasional undertaking. Much the same as maintenance of Voyager."

Janeway nodded in understanding, and looked at her Vulcan security chief. "Do you have any thoughts on this, Tuvok?"

Tuvok weighed it up and frowned slightly. "The data is insufficient to determine what the exact cause of the movement Lieutenant Torres believed she saw, but it does bear further investigation by the xeno biology team as she has already suggested to me."

"I agree, Commander," the Captain said firmly; she glanced over at the Klingon engineer. "And you, B'Elanna, as this is your little discovery, would you be interested in overseeing the team?" She waved aside Torres' protestations, about her lack of suitable qualifications, of being an engineer, that she had no right trying to be a biologist, and smiled at the woman. "Oh, before you head off, I think that Seven can assist you too."

B'Elanna closed her mouth and thinned her lips in acceptance. A quick glance at Seven's face showed much the same expression, although she seemed to have accepted her fate with a certain amount of equanimity. They exchanged a look, and headed out of the doors at much the same time.

Tuvok watched them leave and turned to look at the Captain; he raised a brow at her. "Do you wish me to oversee this also, Captain?"

Janeway chuckled. "No, Tuvok, that'll be fine, but I think it'll be an interesting time for them, to discover a possible new friendship. I would, however, be interested in your report of the systems on that thing over there" – she motioned at the portal, at the great metal monster keeping apace of the sleek lines of Voyager – "and whether we can salvage more than a few relays." She gestured to a seat. "Shall we?"


	2. Chapter 2

Xelt'e moved as quickly as she dared, away from the prying beam of light that had nearly discovered her and raced through the gaps left by all the technology that was dully lighting her way. She stopped, listened again, reaching out with every sense and tried to 'hear' what the giants were saying. They were not conversant to her and their minds touch was a resonance she was unfamiliar with, though one held a glimmering of something that she thought she recognised. Might know it, perhaps, could it be?

Of one thing she was certain, they were not the cyber creatures that decimated her race, time and time again, just as they were establishing a colony in their bitter, friendless habitat. They knew, her people, what these monsters were capable of but could no more disassociate from them than a tapeworm could leave its host. They needed the technology to survive, in their own small way and therefore, much as it pained them, they could not leave. Unless forced. And they were forced too often into that predicament, for it would be but the work of moments for her colony, her family, to be extinguished, their small lives snuffed out with less thought than it takes to smear an insect on a wall.

She slipped like quicksilver along well-remembered routes, anxious for herself as well as all those relatives, her slim form sliding between conduits, relays and electronic subsystems, into the tiniest places so she could reach her goal without being heard, or worse, seen. Her telepathic ability ranged forwards, tendrils of thought delicately probing, trying to make sense of what it was she had picked up from these strangers, but it was more than she could cope with, as she was so very, very young. Xelt'e was only her father's fourth daughter and a mere seeker, at that. She would have to share this information with her elder siblings, so that their mother and father could decide what to do with it.

* * *

The kiss that Tom was giving B'Elanna made her more than a little breathless, and she was only too aware that he had grabbed her and hustled her into an alcove so that he could enjoy an uninterrupted moment with her; her time as the Chief Engineer of Voyager was sometimes oversubscribed and she didn't have enough hours in the day to relish even the quickest fumble.

"Tom", she whispered, batting at him in an ineffectual and half-hearted way. "I really need to get to the transporter room so I can get over to the damn cube."

Paris' mouth smiled against her lips, and he pulled away slightly so that he could turn that charm on her at its full wattage. "You have a few minutes," he smiled, his eyes glinting mischievously, and his fingers stroking the hollow of her waist. "I can show you..."

She glared at him, refusing to be swayed, and elicited a chuckle from him in response, though his face assumed a doleful expression of mock rejection. He pulled her back into his arms for a rapid kiss that spoke of sometime in the near future when there would be more, and then shoved her gently away. "You better go, then, and get that information, B'Elanna." He stroked her cheek softly with his thumb. "I forgive you for deserting me, and I'll see you later at mine for dinner."

Torres watched him walk away, her face tinged with momentary regret that she wasn't able to follow him, and then straightened her ruffled dignity and strode purposefully towards the turbolift. She had to throw this off, or she wouldn't be fit to do anything. Damn the man. Damn him for shaking her composure.

That firmly in place in her mind, the engineer said, "Transporter room." And she finally shook herself into annoyance that Tom could be such a pain in the butt, and so arrogant as to even think that she could be distracted for a single moment from what the Captain had asked her to do. On this last she settled, a task that seemed almost beyond her capabilities, as she really did have no experience in the biological field. She suspected that there was probably more to it than that, though. There usually was when Janeway issued an edict of that nature, consummate behaviourist that she was.

The hiss of the transporter room doors opening made her realise that she had got there almost on instinct, but she was pleased to see that the team of xeno-biologists were already assembled with the equipment they deemed necessary. Which was a lot. Her eyes bulged a little.

"Is all of that really necessary?"

The human ensign, Minnow, smiled at her, and nodded, "'Fraid so, Lieutenant."

The other two scientists, one Trill and the other Bajoran, smiled and nodded too.

B'Elanna allowed her brows to lift slightly, but she accepted what they said. "We'd better get over there." She tapped her comm. badge. "Torres to Seven, we are waiting in the transporter room ready to beam over."

There was no response, and the transporter chief coughed to get her attention. As B'Elanna turned, she said, "Seven of Nine has already transported over, Lieutenant."

The Klingon woman narrowed her eyes, though she had already made that leap without the help of the chief, as it was something that she had expected would happen. Seven was still a bit quick on the draw when it came to making a decision about what needed to be done and it was a habit of hers that rankled with Torres. Setting her irritation to one side, she gestured for the small team to join her on the transporter pads and they, along with the equipment, twinkled into motes…

…To reappear in the dark, humid interior of the Borg cube. For some reason, it felt even more claustrophobic than before and B'Elanna reconnected with her feelings of disquiet. This place felt… well… _haunted_, for want of a better word, and she knew it to be nonsense, but could not help the whimsy. Maybe, she reasoned to herself, it was simply that she knew these places were hellholes, after all the collective attempted to extinguish every atom of one of their drones that even hinted at any aspect of their individuality. Uncertain if they suffered, B'Elanna could imagine no worse fate than to be subjugated to such an extent, and the telltale signs of such slavery was abhorrent to her.

Minnow was busy setting up an interesting piece of lab equipment that seemed to be about scanning, but at level that Torres was unfamiliar with. She moved in to take a closer look at the blinking apparatus that the scientist was operating with startling efficiency. The other two were already setting what looked like... traps?

"What the hell?" she asked, as she shone the torch in her hand over the outline of the equipment Delra Fragon was clamping onto the walls of the cube. It seemed to melt seamlessly into the infrastructure, and the scientist ran her hands over it, grunting as it settled into place with a click.

Delra, satisfied, wiped her hands on the legs of her uniform, and then looked at the perturbed engineer. The Bajoran could see she was disturbed a little so explained what she was doing. "It is a trap," she said, almost apologetically, "but it won't harm whatever is moving about in there. It's just designed to hold them, or it, until we can get back and take a look." She shrugged, and jerked her head at the scanner Minnow was using. "That is showing us there are a lot of runways throughout the exoskeleton of the cube – these little beasties are quite extraordinary it would seem – and we gotta make certain there are a few traps in as many places as possible just in case they don't get anything."

"I see."

"Lieutenant, this _is_ standard practice for field biologists," Delra explained, knowing it still didn't look good. "The method is invaluable and allows us to gain insight of population, gender ratio and possible age ranges… all invaluable data in cataloguing a new species. It gives us… well… a lot to work with."

Torres huffed a breath slightly. "I guess. I just suppose I'm too used to dealing with things that don't put up a complaint when I hit them. Well, apart from my team if they don't move quickly enough." Delra snorted at this, and she gave the other woman a quirky smile. "And maybe this place just makes my skin crawl."

The biologist took a chance, and patted Torres sympathetically on the arm. "I know exactly what you mean."

"You do?" asked a surprised B'Elanna, relieved that she wasn't the only one who felt out of place here.

"Oh yeah… this is the first time we've been on a cube, Lieutenant and, frankly, it scared the shit outta me. You have _no_ idea how happy I am to know that Voyager has a lock on us and that she is just a comm. badge slap away." She shuddered in remembrance. "Species 8472 was a terrifying experience for us all."

"But I bet you would have liked to get a closer look at one of 'em, eh?"

A glint in the scientist's eyes told Torres she had hit the nail firmly on the head, and she thanked every deity she was familiar with, and some she wasn't, that the biology teams didn't seem to have traps big enough to hold one of those motherfuckers. She barked a laugh at the expression the other woman had got on her face as she had considered the possibilities.

Delra's eyes twinkled, and she allowed a grin to settle on her dark face. "Can I help it?" she asked.

Torres shrugged in empathy. "Noo… we are all capable of being single-minded when it comes to finding out about new things. Obsessive, even, maybe."

"Oh so true," muttered Minnow, who had heard part of the conversation, and was grinning widely too.

B'Elanna decided she liked these women, but then got back into efficiency mode. "So, how is it going?" At a nod, she tapped her badge, "Torres to Seven."

There was a moment's silence and then a response. "Lieutenant?"

"Where are you?"

"I am currently examining another gap in the bulkhead at approximately four hundred metres from your current position. If you head north you should find me easily."

The engineer glanced over at the team of scientists, and could see that the Trill, Maxon, was already making his way over to her so that he could come and take a look at the new gap. In either hand he carried a smaller trap, a less wieldy box of tools, and a PADD; his tricorder was stuffed into his belt, and he looked eager.

"We'll see you in a while," Torres said, and they headed off towards Seven, leaving the other two happily making measurements.


	3. Chapter 3

**A.N. If you are American, please forgive the British spelling; I can't help it cos it is the way I wuz taught. **

* * *

Atimi rushed forward to greet her sister as she arrived in the outer reaches of the deep nest, running a small paw over Xelt'e's face, and bristling her own facial whiskers so they resembled a radial brush around her snout. She sensed the disquiet her sister carried like a flag, and there was a gamut of unknown in her normally so ordered mind. Unusual things were happening indeed, in this place now…

_Sister Seeker Xelt'e_, her mind slipped into place, a loving greeting in every neuron, examining those things that Xelt'e was at a loss to make sense of. But on this instance, even Atimi could not understand what it was that her sister had 'seen', or what was to be done about it? Through her sister's senses, Atimi 'saw' the strangers, 'felt' and 'heard' them and could feel no animosity from them even if their thoughts were not of any construction she had come across before. This was newness to her, and it felt passing strange, so strange that she knew nothing of how it could be dealt with.

_We will speak of this to the Makers, sister mine_, Atimi reassured Xelt'e. _Surely they will know what is to be done._

* * *

Seven glanced up from her examination of the bulkhead as Torres and Maxon came up to where she was, then felt her way along it for another three metres. She gestured to Maxon silently, and pointed at a spot approximately ten centimetres from where she had been looking. He moved quietly for so big a man, crossing to where she stood swiftly despite being loaded with stuff.

Maxon frowned, lowered his equipment quietly and flicked the trap into an operational position before placing it onto the area Seven was indicating. He ran a tricorder over it, the machine humming quietly, and he adjusted the trap by a few millimetres, making certain it was locked into the conduit with no means out of it, either back or forward. He clicked the tricorder shut, and nodded in satisfaction before grabbing up the other apparatus again and backing away.

Torres watched this curiously and a slightly raised brow then took out her own tricorder and passed it over the trap and where it was situated. The indications of what lay beneath the surface were indeed note worthy. She mused over those readings again, and then looked up at the others.

"Interesting," she remarked quietly.

Maxon grinned, then slipped around the corner of the corridor carrying his tool kit; he could be heard to move a bit further north then stop.

Seven addressed Torres in undertones. "There is a vast network of runs leading from this particular area to a central point approximately one kilometre from our present position. The readings would indicate that there are many life forms inhabiting this region, but the data is highly unusual."

B'Elanna, who was checking her own data, glanced up at Seven, her eyes had a hard edge. "So it would seem." She considered her earlier irritation and decided it was out of place now; she would talk to the other woman later about her maverick behaviour. "Yes," she agreed. "From what I saw of the field equipment's readings they seem to be blipping in and out of existence. The information is certainly intriguing, but I think we need to head towards that centre point so we can take a better look."

"Agreed."

The engineer folded her tricorder, and slipped into its holster; she took her torch and shone it along the corridor, flicking its intense bluish beam over the walls, looking for all the hidden, out of sight places and fissures. As they travelled they were highlighted starkly, a fresco that appeared suddenly and then dimmed into non-existence, the shadows moving like black ink as they passed them by, each bizarre meshing of ingested technology a silent reminder of every species that had once passed this way, never again to emerge from the pallid gloom and oppressive heat of the interior of the cube. Empty alcoves flickered their green light, bearing mute testimony to the purpose this grotesque machine had and would have, no doubt, again.

Seven was oblivious of the emotional warring of her companion, as she had walked these pathways many times in her life and she was familiar with every turn. If it hadn't been this cube, then it had been another so like it to be its twin, and for a moment it felt like home to her. She welcomed the silence of the journey, as it was a relief to the oft-times too hectic and brash reality, seemingly lacking cohesion that Voyager had, and she found she still missed the awareness of being at one with something that was so much larger than she. There had been a comfort in being part of the machine, especially of one that ran so smoothly and effectively.

Twenty minutes it took for them to reach their goal and they stood exposed on the central walkway, overlooking a vast expanse of space, surveying the hub of the cube from every angle. Below them it fell away dizzyingly, and around them the sheer size and contained power of the mechanism was something no one could remain immune to. It awed, and struck horror in equal amounts, the mind of those surveying to the point where any speech was rendered to pointlessness, as it couldn't be described adequately.

B'Elanna shook off the slight vertigo she was experiencing, and took out the tricorder at her belt again just as Seven tapped her comm. badge.

Seven spoke clearly, "Ensign Minnow, would you transport to our current position as soon as you have finished."

B'Elanna stared at Seven with disbelief, and decided there that that talk would have to take place right now. "What you just did was beyond your remit, Seven," she said, disliking the hectoring note that had arisen in her voice but too pissed to really care, "as I believe the Captain placed **me** in charge of this away team. You should have consulted with me before requesting Minnow to join us, and specified your reasoning."

The blonde head tilted slightly, and both brows drew together as the Borg woman assessed this. "I felt it was a logical step, Lieutenant, that did not require your approbation."

The engineer breathed in deeply through her nose, controlling her temper, remembering that Seven was still very much of the collective mindset and that such close proximity to everything she had once been may well have served to reinstate some of the conditioning she'd lived with for most of her life. Learning a thing is easy, particularly if it involves behaviour – it is unlearning it that proves to be hard, she reflected, quelling the sharp retorts bubbling to her lips. God knows she wasn't exactly proficient at that herself, given the constant internal struggle she had with her acceptance of the heritage her mother had bestowed on her so maybe there was a call for a some slack here?

She thought through her response carefully, and spoke in measured tones, her words crisp so there was no lack of understanding. "I see your point, Seven, and yes, there was a certain logic, but there is still the question of reporting to your immediate team leader and _sharing_ any information you may have. I don't have the enviable abilities of a Betazoid or Vulcan, and can only discern what needs to be done if you **talk** to me." She sighed then, a small, exasperated sound. "We do not have the benefit of a hive mentality, also."

Seven's face showed she was absorbing this, and she nodded slightly. "I… understand, Lieutenant. It will not happen again." She opened her mouth slightly as if to say something, thought better of it, and then changed her mind again. "My apologies."

B'Elanna watched the emotions on Seven's face settle into acceptance, before adding, "You should not have transported here without us either." Seven's eyes flickered to that, but she remained silent. "If you had talked to me initially about an earlier transport, I would have agreed with you but you need to communicate your ideas to me at all times."

"I erred," admitted Seven hesitantly. "However, I will endeavour to address these issues and to ensure it will not happen again." She then added, quickly, as if afraid of the words leaving her mouth, "Sometimes I do not always understand the nuances of the behaviour I am expected to deal with. Being Borg was… so much more simplistic."

The Klingon woman smiled, her eyes lightening with empathy, her temper extinguished. "Believe it or not, Seven, I do understand where you are coming from, and I know this is going to take time." She then took a first step towards friendship, and placed a hand lightly on Seven's upper arm. "Let's consider it a learning curve, and one that comes with its own set of hazards, because I can tell you now that you will do this again. Believe me, I know, because I was a complete asshat for quite some time. You only have to ask Chakotay about that."

At the mention of Chakotay, Seven coloured slightly, then regained her composure. "I – I believe I will ask him, Lieutenant," and looked to see the other woman's response to her attempt at humour. Seven was gratified to see B'Elanna was amused even though her mouth was set in a harsh line; her eyes showed a glimmer of laughter. "With your permission, of course."

The engineer's laugh barked out suddenly and echoed, before she stifled it, around the cube just as the twinkling form of Minnow resolved beside them, so B'Elanna released Seven's arm after giving her an acknowledging nod.

Minnow looked about, impressed, and spoke up. "Lieutenant, we thought we had got something in one of the traps about fifteen minutes ago. It was showing definite signs of there being a life form, and then it vanished."

Torres blinked, and regained her equanimity. "It vanished?"

"Yes, sir," she responded. "We went back and dismantled the damn thing and there was nothing in there. There should have been but there wasn't."

"A malfunction?" put in Seven.

The biologist shook her head firmly. "Absolutely not. I recalibrated and stripped down everything when we knew we were going to come here." She added thoughtfully, "However, we did find some interesting traces in the cage, something the doctor might confirm for us if we get back to the ship." She held up a sample tube, and Torres and Seven craned their heads towards it. "I… no, **we** think they are Borg nanites."


	4. Chapter 4

"I can confirm these are definitely Borg nanites, Captain," said the Doctor, then added, "but they are also significantly different from those that Seven carries or, indeed, those that I have previously examined from Borg drones"

Janeway leant further over the microscope and watched the scurrying micro-machines with a slight frown on her face. As a pretty good engineer herself she was able to see that there were indeed some irregularities that were distinctly unusual, and her natural inquisitiveness was aroused as to how they would affect an organism that had them. As she watched, she found herself taken aback, then deeply surprised, "Good grief… they phase, Doctor!"

The hologram nodded. "Indeed, Captain. Quite remarkable, and they have obviously evolved from those you could consider to be the norm for the Borg."

"Remarkable indeed, Doctor," said Janeway strongly; she continued to peruse the nanites through the scope for a small length of time before looking back up. "What I want to know is what they live on, or in." She gave the Doctor a measuring look and turned her attention to the three other scientists. "Are you any closer to finding out what the creatures are that so obviously utilise these variants, and how they do that?"

Minnow shook her head. "As yet, Captain, we have only a few flakes of what appear to be skin but, interestingly, they do seem to have some genetic markers that place them into the same evolutionary schema as the species that originated the Borg."

Janeway raised a brow, tilted her head and speculated. "That's extremely interesting. They came into space from the original home world, and have stayed with them ever since -"

Maxon said, "Captain, I apologise for interrupting but, that is something we are, as yet, unable to confirm as there also seem to be some anomalies in that genetic makeup. It is possible the nanites are responsible for the addition of extraneous genetic material into this species genome, giving us a false image of the evolutionary process." He paused for a second, as he gathered his thoughts, before adding, "These nanites don't behave in the way we have seen previously and we need further research before it's possible to make a categorical statement."

"What we need," Delra interjected, "is a specimen or two so we can find out how they are connected. Certainly, the fact that these nanites phase is extraordinary, and might also be responsible for the reason that we have been unable to capture such a specimen."

The Captain was thoughtful. "Yes, I can see why you'd need to support your hypothesis before laying it on the table." She glanced over at B'Elanna and Seven, who had been listening keenly. "I want you both to see about designing a trap that will match all the current criteria and information we have. I'm also pretty curious myself about what these creatures look like so I feel certain you must be too. You are dismissed."

Both women acknowledged the Captain's order briefly, and left promptly together from the medical room to head to engineering.

"Captain," Tuvok put in, "as it has now come to our attention regarding the nanites abilities, I would like to suggest that we consider the possibility that we, also, might become 'infested'. Considering the extent of the runs throughout the cube, this could be hazardous to our systems."

The Captain looked at her friend thoughtfully, and asked the scientists. "Is this likely?"

Maxon looked a little hesitant, as if he didn't really want to be too definite – after all, a straight answer just wasn't forthcoming at the moment. "Probabilities for that are low, Captain, but we have no idea what the nanites could do if they got loose. We think that any creature that is adapted for conditions aboard the cube would find Voyager pretty uncomfortable."

"However," responded the Vulcan evenly, "there is one spot on the ship that has the conditions you describe as necessary."

Janeway nodded. "Indeed there is, and you may well be right to be so cautious, Commander. See that you check it out, and report back to me with any findings." She looked at her team again, and then perched precariously on a biobed before saying, "Ensigns Delra and Minnow, please assist Seven of Nine and Lieutenant Torres with suitable design features for this trap of yours and, Maxon, if you would provide support for both Commander Tuvok and the Doctor? I feel certain they'll be able to make use of your expertise."

"Captain," the scientists chorused, and also left the medical room.

Tuvok remained, watching the Captain as she came back over to the scope to take yet another look at the nanites. He came to decision. "Kathryn, I have other concerns about this cube."

Janeway was a little startled by the use of her given name, but gave it the consideration it deserved. Tuvok was rarely driven to such excess unless his equanimity was seriously disturbed, and therefore this must be weighing on him heavily. She waited for him to continue.

The Vulcan breathed in through his nose very quickly, and then said, "I fear that we may not have much time to conclude our research as the cube is transmitting on a low subspace band. The emissions are unusually configured, but definitely Borg, and they might well be on their way to salvage the cube."

Janeway's mouth thinned a little, as yet another bout of tag with the Borg wasn't something she wanted for the ship for quite some time, and she drew her brows together in a frown. "Thank you, Tuvok. Please apprise Commander Chakotay of these developments and make certain that all involved know time is of the essence."

The Security Chief tilted his head fractionally in recognition and left the medical room also, leaving the Doctor at his current analysis and Janeway to her rapidly churning thoughts. What, she chewed over, do you do for the creatures you live with, and what the hell is this damn new signal?

Kathryn Janeway sighed, as these were questions she would have the answers to eventually, but not right now. She resumed looking at the little machines under the light of the microscope, watching them replicating and busying themselves and occasionally phasing in and out.

* * *

Cho'Chil and Lymab were scared. This place was too cold, too bright and smelt strange, they could feel no others - _no one_ was there – no Maker, no Ranger, no Finder or Seeker. No more than barely weaned pups, they had found themselves in a place that was not theirs. No familiarity… _nothing_. They were lost and, like all bereft children, they huddled together, hiding as best they could, flattening themselves against the strangely coloured walls, seeking out the shadows that could keep them safe.

Lured by something they thought they knew, that seemed right but just wasn't, they had floundered after they'd found themselves closer than they'd _ever_ have wanted to be to one of the two-legs. Floundered to such an extent that they had been caught in the sparkle of the energy transfer and had been unable to _jump_ from it before they even realised it had caught them. Both of them had _jumped_ the minute they had rematerialised, panic and desperation to be away from the monsters driving them, expecting to be within the comforting reaches of the deep nest but found they were further from it than they'd ever thought possible.

The older of the two by scant minutes, Lymab, ran a small paw over the wall panel beside him and, with his fourth leg comforted his younger sister by gently smoothing the sleek fox-orange fur with its ticking of cream, while he tried out his newly developing senses. She radiated misery beside him, her coat ruffling despite the gentle reassurances he was giving, trying very hard to suppress the telepathic emanations she was sending out. At this rate they would be discovered quickly, and Cho'Chil knew that she had to control better as _any_ being with even the tiniest hint of telepathy would be aware of their presence due to the waves of discomfort she was unwittingly throwing off. As the better telepath of the two, she sometimes found it hard to shield as effectively as she wanted.

_Here_, Lymab sent at last, and the two of them _jumped_ again into the fabric of the bulkhead.


	5. Chapter 5

Seven stepped back to take a good look at her handiwork and allowed herself a glimmer of pleasure for a job well done. The trap sat in front of her on the table surface, gleaming, cold and utterly efficient. There had been a few hairy moments when the adjustment and modulation of the phase variance console – a sleek little piece of technology full of blinking coloured lights - looked as if it was going to have complete seizure and fizzle out, but she had to admit that the inclusion of a few of the nanites previously retrieved by Minnow was a stroke of genius.

The two biologists had decided that before they went back to the cube they required sustenance, and as she was due for regeneration too, she would also take advantage of the fact that the tool was complete. But only _after_ she had addressed this new issue of the subspace transmission Tuvok had found.

B'Elanna was busy at the table still. Making certain that the doors, and fail-safes were operating within their agreed parameters. Delra had also been invaluable in the design of the contraption, and it was definitely fit for use now, as well as being something they could replicate easily. _So_ easily that a further two traps sat on the floor by the table.

"Not pretty," remarked the engineer, wiping her hands on a cloth, and grabbing the mug she was drinking from; it was empty, and she couldn't recall finishing it. She put it back on the table edge so it sat there precariously. "But… hopefully it'll do the job."

"It will suffice," said Seven coolly. She wasn't about to over egg any of her puddings, whatever they were.

Torres sighed. "It'll do more than that – it had _better_ do more than that!" She eyed the other woman speculatively, and then asked, "What are you going to do now we've done here?" It was an attempt to make small talk, she knew it, Seven knew it, and it faltered before it began.

"I believe I will be regenerating after I have analysed the sensor sweeps that Commander Tuvok has made."

B'Elanna couldn't help herself, and a sarcastic little aside slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. "My, aren't _you_ the lucky one" She mentally gave herself a slap.

Seven stiffened slightly, a little taken aback, but knew that Torres sense of humour was often unpredictable even when compared to that of her compatriots. She doubted that she would ever understand the nuances. "I… am uncertain what you mean, Lieutenant?"

"Well… sensor sweeps instead of company, Seven? Wouldn't you like to spend some time in the mess hall with people, or are you still not sure you would be welcome?"

The woman stared at Torres, definitely confused now, and felt her face becoming a tight mask. The engineer seemed as if she was spoiling for a fight, so Seven examined all of the preceding conversations of that day, and several from a few days ago, but wasn't certain which of the many had caused this. She erred on the side of caution. "I believe you to still be irritated by my lack of communication with you earlier, am I correct?"

Torres narrowed her eyes a little, and reassessed. _Great, another humourless idiot - just what I needed_, she thought, but said out loud, "It was a joke, Seven… a bad one, so just ignore it."

Seven considered Torres words. "As you wish," she decided was the correct response.

Torres wished the Borg wouldn't take her words so literally – _anybody's_ words for that matter - and watched her head away from engineering towards astrophysics; she found she was irritated, again. Right now she was going to see what it was that Tom had in mind for dinner, and maybe she could even encourage him into a row. There was _nothing_ quite like a good argument to aid digestion.

* * *

Tuvok was waiting for Seven when she arrived in astrophysics, as was Chakotay, and both of them were very busy at the consoles. They had been examining all the data available from the cube, including some that might help Voyager on her way home.

The Vulcan turned his dark gaze on the woman as she came to stand by them both, her curiosity allowing her to peer past them at the screens they were looking at. "Is this a Borg signature with which you have any familiarity?" he asked bluntly.

Chakotay allowed a small smile to pass over his mouth, and he sent a sympathetic glance over to Seven - who had been feeling attacked from all sides anyway - which flustered her a little. She shook herself, and regained her composure in less than a beat; unnoticeable by the men she was with.

She tipped her head, gazing at the readout and comparing it with the encyclopaedic knowledge she had of waveform signals; she looked at every tiny curve carefully. "If I may," she offered, and took up the position vacated by the Security Chief as he stepped aside for her.

Her fingers flashed efficiently, recalibrating and examining the details, and she stopped, finally, satisfied. This had taken rather less of her time than she thought it would. "Negative," she responded calmly.

Tuvok looked a little surprised, and Chakotay's brows also lifted into his hairline. "You'll forgive me, Seven," he said softly, appraising her, "if I find that a little unlikely."

She faced him head on, her hands behind her back. "Nevertheless, Commander, it is so."

"Please explain," the Vulcan said.

Seven turned back to the monitors, and brought up the displays of the various Borg carrier signals that Voyager's data banks had, each of them a less than happy addition to the catalogue of near-fatal run-ins. She traced her finger across each of the wave patterns making certain that they all showed in different colours then superimposed the new signature over the top of them.

"As you can see," she stated firmly, knowing the ground under her feet to be solid, "all of the previous Borg signals carry similar fluctuations at this frequency –" she pointed with a narrow finger at the culprit, where it could be clearly seen as matching – "but, this new wave length does not have the same anomaly." She sniffed slightly, a slight rise of her brows indicating what she thought so far of their less than sterling efforts. "I do not recognise this signature, nor is it entirely Borg. It appears to be somewhat similar to those of the nanites we recovered from the cube."

Chakotay hissed a little as he drew a breath through his teeth. "And linked to our mysterious little critters, therefore?" He gave the console a gentle slap. "Of course!"

"So it would seem," agreed Tuvok. "Fascinating." He tapped his comm. badge. "Captain, it would appear that the nanites are responsible, though only in part, for the signal I found. It is highly probable that their emissions are linked to the creatures we are currently investigating."

"Remarkable," came Janeway's voice. "Is Seven with you?"

"I am, Captain," she affirmed.

"I would like you to get those traps placed on the cube _after_ your next regeneration – and I mean you should do that **now**, Seven. It can wait until then, now we know the ship is in no immediate danger."

"It would be more efficient – "

"That's an order, Seven." The tone brooked no argument, and cut her off neatly.

"Yes, Captain."

"Tuvok, Chakotay, please join me in my ready room. Janeway out."

Chakotay placed a hand on Seven's arm, his dark eyes warm, a look she found helped make her stomach flip over, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Go get some rest, Seven. You heard the Captain."

"Yes, Commander," she said, and attempted to cover her emotional upsurge by addressing the console so handily placed beside her. She didn't watch them walk out, but heard the doors swoosh shut, so missed the Vulcan's raised brow as he made a rapid, and accurate, assessment of the emotional state of his colleagues.

Tuvok kept the information to himself, tighter than a clam, but had some concerns for the welfare of his latest protégée, even though he knew Chakotay to be a honourable man. This was an _interesting_ development.

* * *

Lymab ran around in a state of confusion because this place was patently not home. It looked correct, but smelt so wrong, and Cho'Chil wasn't helping her at all; he was too afraid of all of the strange machines in this place that should be right. A sudden noise sent them both scampering, slipping like the little shadows they were into an inconspicuous area between two large storage containers, squeezing themselves in until they were as hidden as they could make themselves.

Lymab's whiskers were fully extended, and her fur spiked with fear, as was Cho'Chil's, each of them resembling now a length of furry pipe cleaner with legs and dark red eyes - then the nanites _phased_ for them, making them truly invisible. They watched, trembling, as the two-legged thing came and stood in its regeneration alcove; its eyes shut tightly as it connected almost instantly, the hum of the machine working, sending a welcome vibration through them both. This they were sure of, _this_ they knew and understood.

After some minutes, when they were both certain the two-legs _was_ really deep into its regeneration cycle and not likely to be able to wake and hurt either of them, they both slipped out from where they'd been concealed, the phase slowly rectifying until they were again discernible. Lymab's fur slowly settled becoming a sleek, almost metallic, coat, and she chattered slightly, sending the visual to him of the working alcove, noting the modifications that had been made so that it would fit into this very alien place. Braver than she had ever realised she was, Lymab _jumped_, doing something **never** done by her species before and rematerialised on the two-legs shoulder gently, having judged the teleport very accurately. Unprecedented and outside of instinct, she trembled momentarily, shaken to her core by her own effrontery. The Makers would have been horrified by her actions, as it would place the whole clan in danger normally!

For now though, Lymab placed this consideration to one side, edging delicately down the body of the two-legs, gripping some of the outer coating the creature had with the toes of her hind legs, and with her four front legs she curled her body up until she could come nose to nose with the creature. Lymab extruded a small lavender tongue, and tasted its skin, then sent her impressions directly to her brother. _Good_.

Cho'Chil, who had been terrified for her up until that point, sent a major scold to his idiotic, nestling, sister, but _jumped_ too, to land softly on the opposite shoulder. The lights from the regeneration alcove made him scintillate as it strobed with his silver-grey fur, and he too carefully manoeuvred himself so he could see into the two-legs face. He placed a tiny, soft-padded paw on its neck and he burrowed his face just above his paw, relishing the scent and smell. His passengers, the nanites, swarmed down his whiskers, and to the skin of his pads, allowing the regeneration to draw him in too and he closed his eyes in content. He could feel his sister was also regenerating, and they allowed their minds to mesh, finding a comfort in the closeness.

Unexpectedly, however, they both found themselves taken into a strange new place with this two-legs, one that they had never experienced and they knew from their available race memories, that _none_ of their kind ever had either.

* * *

Seven dreamed…


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N. To all out there reading and enjoying, my thanks. ;)**

* * *

"Regeneration cycle incomplete."

The tones of the computer brooked no argument, but Seven found herself awake and stepping from the platform, thoroughly disorientated, feeling that she had lost something of vital importance, something that gladdened her. She shivered, suddenly cold, and glanced around the cargo bay; it looked the way it always did, a place for storage, and her home on Voyager.

She asked, needing a marker of some kind, "Time, computer?"

"It is 04:17."

That meant she'd had little more than three hours regenerating, which was not enough by any means, something the Doctor would, no doubt, be at pains to mention to her when he next did her physical assessment. A brow raised, she turned and considered the alcove. _Perhaps it requires maintenance_, she thought, _or there may be a fault I have not previously discovered?_

Certain this was the answer, Seven moved back to the console set by the side of the alcove, and started a diagnostic routine, checking she hadn't missed anything significant on a previous check. But the diagnostic showed nothing untoward and, if anything, it indicated that the alcove was functioning at a little better than one hundred percent. Something that would have gladdened her Borg need for efficiency, normally…

"Computer, locate Commander Chakotay."

"Commander Chakotay is on the bridge."

Turning to scan the cargo bay one more time, in an effort to see if there were any clues, Seven attempted to shake the lethargy that was stealing over her and made her way purposefully out of the doors to the bridge.

* * *

They both scampered like the pups they were, along the conduits, through the Jeffries tubes, _jumping_ across or through spaces that didn't allow them access, exploring, eager to find out more about this ship full of strange, strange things, and wonders. A _ship_ was what the two-legs had called it, and the two little creatures had every intention of gaining as much information as they could, so that when they returned to the deep nest the Makers would be well pleased, even though _how_ they would get home wasn't certain. Still, for all that, Lymab was ecstatic because she would surely be a Seeker, and so would Cho'Chil… something unheard of for ones so young, so recently left the safety of a parent's loving care.

The emanations they had shared had been so extraordinary, their minds were still trying to assimilate the images, and they knew getting home was, should be, the most important thing they had to do. _Had to _because what they'd found out needed a Maker to make sense of it all. These two-legs were not even _native_ to this region of space, but came from far away – distances their minds balked at – and such places of awe, and beauty they trembled with the knowledge. There was no desire to be rid of them in the thoughts they'd shared, just curiosity and a thirst to find out new things, something they knew all too well, as it had often been the undoing of their people.

But first, even though going back to the deep nest was important, there was much more exploration, and an almost driven need to find out if what they had shared with the two-legs while she was regenerating was something rare. The dream, it had been called, was a place of wonder, and they wanted to experience more, wanted to be in that place again to share it with the two-legs. They ran on and on, _jumping_, until they found something they could identify.

* * *

B'Elanna lay tucked against Tom Paris' side, with his arm placed lightly over her waist and one hand placed on her lightly muscled stomach, in an attitude of repletion, contentment in every line of their faces. Their breathing was soft, almost synchronised, and both were dreaming deeply, as two small, furry aliens padded their way delicately over the bed sheets, walking gently over bare skin that shuddered, goose-bumps rising in reaction as velvet paws made contact, until they reached the two sleepers heads.

Lymab nuzzled her head under Tom's chin, and thrummed happily, the noise a gentle vibration that made him smile before he settled into an even deeper slumber. Cho'chil had a similar response from the sleeping Klingon woman, whose mouth had curved very gently with pleasure as she, too, settled onto her back to dream and allow him greater access to the exposed skin of neck and collarbone. Cho'Chil blinked sleepy eyes, and curled into a tight, contented ball, as did Lymab, and all four slipped into a fantasy landscape that was united through the two pups.

Sighing, Torres lifted her hand and gently placed it on Cho'Chil's body, and the nanites swarmed over her fingers as they linked them both intrinsically, phasing B'Elanna's fingers and some of Cho'Chil's body. Oblivious to the delicate hazing of their bodies, B'Elanna and Tom slept on.

* * *

Chakotay turned his chair slightly as the bridge doors opened, and was quite surprised to see Seven come through them. The graveyard shift was generally uneventful, and the appearance of the Borg woman made him surreptitiously check the panel on the side of his chair just in case he had managed to miss something really important.

Relieved that everything seemed to be fine, he asked, "Can I help you, Seven?"

Seven stopped at the tactical station briefly before making her way down the stairs and coming to sit beside him; she stared distractedly at nothing, seeming to gather her thoughts. "I do not know," she admitted uncertainly.

The First Officer frowned slightly, and waited for her to continue speaking. He often found that people were more likely to share their thoughts if you allowed them time and some silence; he concentrated on the PADD he had been checking for the Ensign currently filling Harry's position at Ops.

"I have had a dream," she said finally, and very softly.

Chakotay looked up from his task, placing the PADD to one side; it could wait. "A dream?"

Seven nodded, still trying to find the words to describe her sense of loss and the whole bizarreness of the experience she had had; she was also beginning to wonder why she had come here to talk to this man. "It was highly irregular."

"In what sense, Seven?" he prompted gently, recognising her disquiet. She turned confused blue eyes on him, a look that made her seem vulnerable, a look that made his hand reach involuntarily to her forearm in comfort.

She didn't even flinch at his touch, just sinking into her confusion while she wrestled with a horrendous sense of loss that threatened to engulf her. She made a concerted effort to pull her wits into some kind of order. "It was not a nightmare," she stated firmly, "but it was unusual because I was back on a Borg cube –"

"That doesn't sound too out of the ordinary," Chakotay said, interrupting her despite himself.

Seven blinked, startled, nodding agreement, and went on. "Indeed, but I was not alone there –" she shook her head at his puzzled look, knowing he was thinking of drones and how a cube was a hive in every sense of the word – "there were other beings with me. Beings I knew but could not see, and they…" She faltered, truly searching for the words to describe the sense of wonder and fulfilment she'd had. "I felt so… happy, content, more _real_ than I have ever felt."

Chakotay's eyes had narrowed as he measured her words, and he had latched onto one word in the explanation – 'beings' – intuition tingling. "What sort of beings, Seven?"

The woman shrugged, and looked down at her hands which she had unconsciously clasped together; it was so uncharacteristic for her that Chakotay's hand tightened on her arm. "I could see them only as light."

He nodded, and tightened his mouth as he slapped his comm. badge firmly. "Captain, would you meet me in sickbay. I think we might have some intruders on board."

Janeway's disembodied voice sounded a little disorientated, but the response was swift and positive. "On my way, Commander" There was a brief pause. "Get Tuvok there too, will you."

"Yes, ma'am. Chakotay to Tuvok, please come to sickbay immediately." Without waiting for a response from the Vulcan, he rose to his feet and looked down at Seven with unease. "Let's go and see the Doctor."

Seven gave a sigh, but joined him as they hit the turbolift together to go to sickbay, even though she wanted nothing more than to go back to the cargo bay to re-experience that place again.

* * *

The Doctor reappeared in the sickbay, and automatically began his programmed speech. "Please state the nature of your medical…"

But this time he trailed off and went straight to his instruments for a medical tricorder and was at the biobed almost before Chakotay and Seven reached it themselves. He looked enquiringly at them both, directing a query at Chakotay. "What has happened to Seven, Commander?"

"_That_ I have no idea," Chakotay answered, even as the sickbay doors slid open to reveal Janeway and Tuvok; he acknowledged them briefly, but his attention was centred on the woman now sitting on the bed. "But I have a feeling it may concern our mysterious creatures from the cube. She seems even more unsettled than she was."

Janeway joined him, a look of concern on her face, and looked closely at Seven. The young woman did indeed seem lost, as if she wasn't even really present with them in the room at all. "What makes you think that, Chakotay?"

The Doctor pushed them both impatiently out of the way. "If you don't mind," he said huffily, "I would appreciate some room for me to get on with my job, as then you might have something _more_ than speculation to work on. You can continue your debate over there." He waved his hand airily towards the centre of sickbay.

"Of course, Doctor." Janeway dropped her head, hiding a tight, but amused smile, recognising the Doctor's fussing for the worry it was for his patient, so she and Chakotay obediently shuffled out of the reach of the Hologram's tongue. She watched the Doctor with interest for a few moments then turned to the First Officer.

"I'm still waiting to hear what you have to say," she reminded him patiently.

"Seven came to the bridge after a dream, where she saw beings she felt at one with," he said simply. "It was the nature of her dream that brought her out of regeneration but… she _knew_ these beings were there as part of the fabric of that dream."

Tuvok's eyebrow was raised and he looked sceptical, a look shared by the Captain, but he voiced that scepticism for them both. "A dream is _not_ reliable evidence, Commander."

Chakotay nodded his agreement. "Absolutely. But I'm hoping the Doctor will be able to verify my gut feelings about this."

As if in answer the Doctor snapped shut the tricorder in his hand and gave Seven a mild sedative; the hiss of the hypospray was strident in the quiet room, and he helped her slide down into sleep on the biobed. He pulled a cover over her and crossed to join the others so he could speak to them quietly.

"Seven has raised serotonin levels in her brain, as well as there being some areas of unexplained activity from her cerebral cortex that are usually linked to telepathy. More particularly, it is the right side of her brain that has been accessed." He paused as this sank in. "I do not need to add that this is extremely unlikely, as Seven has no psy-ability whatsoever, which leaves me to question what it is that has stimulated such a sudden and atypical surge?"

The Captain put her hand on the Doctor's shoulder, before moving off thoughtfully to where the sleeping woman lay. She watched her momentarily, before looking back over to the hologram. "Will she be all right?" At his affirmative response, she lowered her head and looked at Seven fondly again. "Good." She thought for a moment or two. "Well, it seems you are right, Commander, but it does also seem that our intruders have done no damage to her, thankfully."

"None," agreed the Doctor, who was feeding the readings from the tricorder into his console. "She will recover quickly, nor will it cause any lasting harm to her."

"Nevertheless, Captain," Tuvok said coolly, unimpressed, "we must find these intruders as soon as possible as there is still the question of the nanites and what they might do to our systems if they become prevalent."

"That could be a good idea," concurred the Doctor unexpectedly; he glanced up at them all. "It appears that contact with our young Borg woman over there is causing them to mutate exponentially." He looked worried now. "And I have no idea what their final form or nature could be."


	7. Chapter 7

**A.N. Sorry this has taken so long. Two weddings and a graduation interfered. :P**

* * *

In Tom Paris' quarters, nothing stirred. The bed was still, and luminesced softly, shades of pink, lavender and violet occasionally flickering onto the walls, and over the portholes, bathing the room with a peaceful ambience. Only an occasional sigh or murmur parted the air, and that it did but barely.

Cho'Chil was stretched out full-length against a human heart, his whole body languid, the delicate phasing keeping time with his breathing, and Lymab too was contentedly drowsing, savouring the strength in human fingers as they held her slender form. They dreamt of such things - such breath-taking, marvellous things – together...

Of flight, and wings that soared, reaching into the sweet air, of dizzying heights, of sunbeams and warm winds, thermals that caused a dance into light, a great sea that crashed against jade and crimson rocks, and flowers that bloomed silver and gold sparkling in the radiance of a scorching star, giving off their perfume each night, as it set in a navy and purple sky. Of small holts, and great runways, of the first deep nest and the love of the Makers, of the many sisters and brothers in their family – of Ranger, Seeker, Finder and pup. And, in turn, the human and the Klingon shared with the two little aliens something so profound that their neurons fired and meshed at even deeper levels, sinking quickly into race memories, and collective awareness of the crew, friends and rivals alike, their differences, their similarities, all those things that bound them and united them, however tenuous.

Across the ship, those sensitive to telepathy, and already asleep, dreamed of supple, metallic, winged beasts, great starships with bright sails, and a hot, white sun that beckoned them, and they would stir, restless, to take flight in an alien sky.

* * *

Delra woke and elbowed Maxon in the ribs, which made him grunt in annoyance and cause him to fight the hard, real world beginning to loom uncomfortably; he felt the dream pulling him back.

"Wake up, you big lug," Delra hissed sharply into his ear, finally causing a cascade of unpleasant sensations to bombard his protesting psyche.

"Shu'p," he mumbled and tried to ignore the hard shaking she was giving him. He turned over so he was lying on his stomach, and wanted to rejoin that peaceful space he'd been so rudely jolted from.

Delra lost patience and pushed at him with her feet, getting her weight behind the manoeuvre so she could lever him out of the bed to the floor. He fell onto it in a flurry of bed linen, and reappeared a few moments later with a scowl firmly in place on his face.

"Wha' the fuck?" he growled, and discovered there was a bruise on his ass that hadn't been there before, which was now giving him a reason to wake fully. "Wha' the hell was that about?"

The woman eyed him, uncertain how to break the news, so decided on bluntness. "You were dreaming. Loudly."

Maxon eased his battered ass and dignity back on to the bed, rearranging the covers around himself; he felt cold, suddenly, quite odd… Distracted, he shook himself, a quick shudder that brought the room and Delra's face back into focus, which was gazing at him in real concern.

"I always dream," he said, "and talk in my sleep."

"Yeah -" she agreed finally, after she had ran a hand over his forehead to see if he had a temperature - "you do. But not so you're shouting." She breathed out sharply, and the look of worry on her face softened to that of a lover's. "Do you feel ok, now?"

Maxon considered, and rubbed his eyes, then leaned into her for a brief kiss, but Delra pushed him off, impatient again. Sighing, he said, "I feel chilled, kinda displaced, Fragon. Maybe I've picked something up?"

"Hmm." She reached into the bedside cabinet to retrieve her tricorder, which she busily ran over him, and then snapped it shut, after gazing at the readings for what seemed long minutes. "I think we should go and see the Doc, Tev."

He groaned. "What, now? You've to be kidding. I've prob'ly just got a cold or something"

"Get dressed, shut up, and then tell me how you have increased serotonin levels, an activated amygdala and cerebral cortex, which seems to be limited to the right side of your brain?" She folded her arms, and gave him a hard look. "I'm waiting, smart arse."

He sighed again, but knew when he was beaten, and began the process of getting dressed. Sometimes you just had to get on with it.

* * *

The hologram was busy, and practically run off his feet, so the appearance of the two scientists in his sickbay didn't surprise him unduly. So, as one of the biobeds cleared, he waved them towards it and finished what he was doing before making his way to them.

"Let me guess," he said, somewhat acerbically, "you've been dreaming."

Delra and Maxon blinked, and shared a look. "Er…. Yes, Doc, that's right, I have," agreed Maxon, warily.

The medic ran his tricorder across Maxon and his mouth grew into a thin line as the readings he was beginning to expect showed up. He tapped his badge. "Doctor to Chakotay. I have another patient with the same symptoms as Seven – one of the biologists from the away team, this time – taking it up to a total of twelve."

"Thanks, Doctor. How's Seven, by the way?"

The Doctor glanced briefly over at Seven, who was still sleeping, and assessed her appearance, which appeared to be relaxed. "Fine, Commander, as the activity in her brain seems to be lessening somewhat, on course with what I expected."

"And the nanites?"

"That is still questionable. As I now have Mr. Maxon here, and Delra, we may be able to come up with a resolution for you soon."

Chakotay sounded amused as he answered. "Thanks, Doctor. Just keep me informed."

The hologram turned back to the scientists, completely missing the subtext of what had happened, and scowled at them as if it was all their fault. "Mr. Maxon, please lie down so that I may take further readings." He edged round the bed, tapping instruments here and there, and finally stared at the large diagnostic panel bleeping merrily behind the bed. "Do you have any telepathic ability, Tev?"

The Trill opened his eyes wide, and made a nod. "Yeees, but pretty damn weak, Doctor. Nothing to write home about."

The Doctor ran his medical scanner over Maxon's head, and it whirred noisily for a small time. "There's no doubt about it, you have got the same symptoms as Seven and a number of other people… all of those apart from her having a modicum of telepathic ability."

Delra's brows drew together as she thought. "Ok, but what about Tuvok? I don't see him here?"

"He is far from immune, Ensign," responded the Doctor, "but he is better able to control the effects of whatever this is, and his body chemistry seems to be adjusting more rapidly also."

"I can see that," Delra said softly, "and what about Seven of Nine?"

The hologram strolled over to his patient, and looked down at her before answering Delra. "She has been in direct physical contact, Fragon. I found some saliva on her neck, and a couple of hairs as well as some nanites."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, and they are mutating at an alarming rate."

Maxon sat up, his eyes sparkling with interest. "Where are the samples, Doc? Do you think it is a harmful mutation?"

The doctor flapped a hand vaguely in the direction of his laboratory. "Be my guest, and no, I do not, Tev. While the rate of change is fast it does not appear to be detrimental, either to Seven or the nanites and I must assume, at least for the moment, our guests –" he raised a brow and inspected the Trill pointedly – "given the number of people that have been through my sickbay this morning."

"You sound bitter, Doctor," Delra gave him a wide smile.

"Do I?" he grumbled. He looked down at his instruments, giving a good impression of someone who is not even faintly amused, then looked up at her, his eyes narrow, but a hint of glee showed anyway. "We need to get on with the work, I think." A thought occurred to him. "Have you spoken with Lieutenant Torres about this?"

"Not yet," Maxon said, and tapped his comm. badge. "Lieutenant Torres, please come to sickbay."

Silence greeted them, a silence so utterly overwhelming it seemed to seep into every pore and fibre of being. Looks were exchanged between them of alarm, troubled, and the medic tried this time. "Lieutenant Torres, please respond."

The silence reigned, supreme, implacable.

The Doctor drew himself up and hit his insignia, hard. "B'Elanna?" Nothing. "Tom?" Nothing. "Computer, locate the whereabouts of Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Paris."

The computer spoke promptly. "Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Paris are on deck four, room –"

"Thank you, computer." He cut the machine off dead and he hit the comm. badge again, an urgent tone in his voice. "Commander Tuvok, there seems to be a problem with B'Elanna and Tom as they are not answering my hails."

"Very well, Doctor, I will proceed to Mr. Paris' quarters. Tuvok out."

"We should go too," said Maxon firmly, placing his feet solidly on the deck. He wobbled slightly, but shook off Delra and the Doctor impatiently, and concentrated on clearing his head. "I'm absolutely fine."

The hologram made a small noise in the back of his throat, and the scanner whirred again, dangerously close to the scientist's ear, but it was switched off as quickly and the Doctor gave a reluctant nod. "As you wish. Mr. Maxon, Ensign –" noticing that neither of the scientists were particularly good at restraining their excitement, he laid a cautionary hand on Maxon's arm – "I want you back here within two hours so I can assess your brain activity."

Maxon grinned disarmingly, an expression that was totally wasted on the medic. "You've got a deal."

* * *

Tuvok strode purposefully towards Paris' quarters, a phaser carried in his hand, with a security guard close at his heels, and stopped outside the door contemplating it. He slipped the phaser back into its holster, and beckoned the other man to stand to one side of the door, before he placed a hand on the door of the cabin. Closing his eyes, he 'felt' carefully for what was beyond its cold metallic exterior, and breathed in through his nostrils as he concentrated. Something called… a siren song…

_…Hot winds buffeted him as he flew on shining wings beneath a sun of actinic brightness, and he rose effortlessly into the sky, up to where it was cooler, and the pattern of clouds was denser. A cityscape on the horizon summoned him, its spires glinting in the light, the pearlescent nature of their domes radiant and beautiful, the stonework a marvel and riot of colour. Beneath him, the ground sped past and he drew closer to the city, his great shadow eclipsing those beneath, and the Makers greeted him with love as their majestic ship hovered close by…_

Tuvok snatched his hand away, and stood still, shocked, wondering, wondering… and drew himself together, too aware he had been as close as any number of others to succumbing to the temptation of that beguiling dream.

"Computer, open the door to Tom Paris' quarters, security override."

The door swooshed open, and the Vulcan grasped the handle of his phaser again, still shaken by his experience, but stepped over the threshold into the room. The light flickered, soft, and fading, but he moved swiftly, followed by his officer, to the bedroom.

B'Elanna and Tom lay together, their limbs entwined, deeply asleep, faces lit with contentment. The nimbus around them was a mere wisp, tenuous, it whispered like silk over naked skin and as Tuvok watched it seeped into them, until there was just a mere hint of the glow that had been surrounding them. He slid the phaser into its sheath once more, and moved cautiously towards his colleagues.

He took his tricorder out and flipped it open, then scanned the readings, and tapped his comm. badge. "Doctor, please come to Mr. Paris' quarters immediately, and inform the scientists their presence is required." Without waiting for a response, he tapped his badge again. "Captain, Commander Chakotay, please join me on deck four at Ensign Paris' quarters." He cocked a sardonic brow. "There have been some… _interesting_ developments."

* * *

Lymab and Cho'Chil watched from where they hid as these two-legs moved the others they had been joined with. Even now the link was withering and they missed its warm comfort, missed the solid reassurance and safety it afforded them in lieu of their family.

_We must go home_, Lymab sent, anxiety in every thought, and Cho'Chil agreed.

They had been too long in this place, and they _needed_ to go home – soon – particularly now that other had been drawn to the dream. So strong, so disciplined, it reminded them of the Makers, and homesickness overwhelmed them.


	8. Chapter 8

**A.N. Please let me know if anyone has info about Borg computer systems and how they operate as I'm kinda floundering. Anyhoo, hope you like.**

* * *

Janeway sat at her desk again, with Tuvok standing a short way from her as he delivered his report on what had transpired with Paris and Torres. She looked tired, _was_ tired, and concerned by the developments, by the things happening on her ship because of what had been simple curiosity, something that should have been easily satisfied.

She rubbed her eyes as the Vulcan finished speaking. "As long as they are well, and on the way to recovery, Tuvok, then I'm satisfied." She lifted her head, giving him a weary stare, then rested it on her hand, elbow settled on the desk. "This… _dream_, though, old friend, that bears some examination."

Tuvok tilted his head in recognition fractionally. "Indeed, Captain." His face acquired a small frown, practically unnoticeable. "It was certainly telepathic, and extremely detailed, with some points that corresponded to an unknown alien culture which, I can only conjecture, was subsumed at some time by the Borg."

Janeway lifted her head, and looked hard at the Vulcan, a glint in her eyes. "Well, well, well… Curiouser and curiouser." Her shroud of weariness dissipated as if a mist had been burnt off in the sun, and she sat straighter, the scientist evident in every line of her body. "An alien culture, you think?" Tuvok merely lifted a brow, not speaking, recognising in her the method she used to play things out. Janeway pursed her lips and addressed him. "I need to know what is going on in Seven's head, Tuvok – " she gave him a shrewd look, and rested her chin on her hand – "and, I feel a meld could give us some invaluable insight."

He nodded his agreement. "That may be true, Captain. However, Seven could also awaken very soon."

The Captain sniffed slightly, thoughtfully, and had to agree he had a point but, also had a feeling that they needed the memories now from the Borg woman, before they became completely invaluable. "I would agree with you if the evidence pointed to her being able to recall her dreams when she does regain full consciousness, Commander, but so far none of the others affected seem to be able to remember anything at all." She paused as she continued her reasoning. "Also, she was in direct contact, and as the visitors came from the Borg ship initially, she has the best chance of remembering something worthwhile. Certainly, she may have a hint as to who, and what this species is… _was_, even _if_ it's no more than a mere suggestion at what we need to look for in that damn cube's computer system."

As the Vulcan processed this, the computer chirped loudly. "Chakotay to Janeway. Captain, the traps are deployed on the cube."

"Thank you, Commander. Please stand by for further instructions." She gazed at Tuvok, waiting for his response, but addressed the other issue currently burning like a beacon. "What is being done to redress the... er... _visitor_ problem, Tuvok?"

"Scans indicate that there are probably two aliens on board Voyager, as the biological residue gathered from Seven and Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Paris would appear to indicate. However, the traces of their whereabouts appear to be random, and intermittent."

The Captain grunted as she digested this, and she tapped her nails on the table top. "So, no definite areas we can place any traps here, then, I take it?" The Security Chief shook his head . "Shit." She huffed a short breath out, and narrowed her eyes. "Commander?" The title held a ream of questions.

"A meld would seem to be expedient, Captain," the Vulcan replied, acknowledging that she had managed to manoeuvre him rather expertly, using her own brand of logic and the deep understanding brought of many years of friendship; he allowed a ghost of a smile to show in his eyes at a well-played piece of psychology and answered her other question. "My staff are attempting to establish where the aliens might be found and to cut off any means of escape with the use of force fields."

Pleased, Janeway leant back in her chair, and allowed a smile to grace her features. "Excellent. Liaise with Chakotay on the cube regarding any information you manage retrieve from Seven, and then let me know." Her attention turned to the console in front of her. "I'll join you as soon as I've finished here."

* * *

His fingers spanned her face, the tips touching each meld point with precision, one question clear and uppermost in his mind, and he sank carefully into Seven's ordered brain, layer by layer, until he came to a place that erupted into a cacophony of disjointed imagery. _Show me, Seven, tell me everything… Where, Seven, where can we find the information?_

Every one of Tuvok's senses fired as if a match had lit them, and he paused for a moment before he made the attempt at deciphering all the random scenes playing out in a stream within her psyche. They assaulted him, leaving him breathless and buffeted, sensation after sensation, of smell, sound, touch, vision, sweeping him inexorably into their grip…

… _he stood next to Seven, and she surveyed a shattered landscape with him, the air around them crackling with electrical discharge; he felt the fine hairs on his body respond, lifting and reaching towards the raging sky, rain lashing down in a deluge of poison and corrosion. Across from them, the broken skeleton of a starship lay burning, its vast, bright wings now dull, cherry red from the glow of fires that sent plumes of choking smoke up into the atmosphere. Seven turned to him, and he saw tears coursing their way down her cheeks as the wind thrashed her hair into wild tendrils; she pointed, silently, her long fingers unerringly showing the way. He turned his gaze towards the horizon, following her hand, watching as clouds of violent orange and green ferociously discharged their contents as if they vomited upon the land. In the distant haze, the ominous shape of a Borg cube hung like a carrion feeder, the light of the sun glaring from its sides…_

_...change..._

…_an alien, tall, six-limbed, upright, walked towards him and passed through him. Tuvok moved to watch, saw the alien spread the thin membrane between the second limbs and torso, observed the colours of its skin change, light racing over fine-grained hide, __**'heard'**__ the call it made to its companions, the telepathic nuances of that call, and__** 'heard'**__ the reply from two minds, and saw a huge beast hurtle towards them on beautiful wings that were shot through with metallic shades of copper, gold, and bronze, the white light of the sun glowing through them…_

_...change..._

…_the city shone with a million dancing, multicoloured lights, its spires alive with people, and overhead, several, small bright ships shot past him, leaving a trail of brilliance behind in a velvet sky of rich purple, the stars shining like silver ice. The joy from the city was palpable, infectious, he could feel its rejoicing bubbling through him…_

_...change..._

…_the telepathic screams of a billion souls as the Borg destroyed a civilisation, until all was silent, and only the hum from the machines disturbed the false calm… Below, the tempest raged…_

_Tuvok grabbed the Borg woman as the scene began to dissolve again, holding her upper arms so that she was the single constant in a maelstrom, forcing her to concentrate on him, only him..._

_...He demanded, all urgency, gripping her arms, "**Tell me**, Seven!"_

_Seven spoke, her voice a whisper, tears thick in her throat, "Species 43…central processor…"_

Tuvok withdrew from the meld, leaving Seven as she began the journey back to consciousness that he had led her to, still shaken by his experience, and looked up into the Doctor's concerned face.

"I am quite well, Doctor," he reassured the Hologram.

"I think I will be the judge of that, Commander." The Doctor scowled, doubt registering, and he activated his scanner, passing it over the Vulcan until he was satisfied. The Vulcan endured this stoically, as he knew that to protest would not gain him any ground whatever, and he had a need to talk to both the Captain and Chakotay as soon as possible.

"May I leave, Doctor?"

The medic gave a curt nod of dismissal, turning back to his patients. "Yes, go, by all means."

* * *

"Species 43?" Janeway was thoughtful. "That's a _very_ long way back into Borg history, Tuvok. We'll have to see what the central processor holds by way of information about this species and its assimilation. I take it that you have asked Chakotay to proceed with retrieving that data?"

"Of course, Captain. The processor appears to have sustained some damaged and there is some data missing from the memory files, though deciphering it should not be too problematic." He added, almost as an afterthought, "I was aware of three species, Captain, whilst I was in the meld with Seven, each of them being a piece of the whole… it was fascinating."

The Captain got up from her chair and stretched, a little stiff from being seated for what seemed like hours; she grabbed the cup of coffee on her desk and took a mouthful, then grimaced. Cold. Putting it down, she said faintly, "It also sounded horrific, my friend."

The Vulcan's darkly handsome face grew sombre with remembrance as he made an admission. "It was disquieting, Kathryn."

She tapped her comm. badge quickly, all efficiency, determined to dispel the gloomy mood that had permeated the ready room, wanting to get back on track with finding out about what was going on, on _her_ ship, to _her_ crew. "Chakotay, have you completed the download to our computer?"

"Yes, Captain, and I have had it transferred to the astrometrics lab for further analysis."

"Transport back, Commander, so we can begin taking a long look at species 43. I think we're going to find out some very interesting things about the Borg from this assimilation."

* * *

A Ranger paused as she raced through the networks of her home, every nerve quivering as she sensed the changes taking place across the cube. The deep nest was a few _jumps_ away and the Makers would thank her for the information, as then decisions could be made as to what they should do before they were once more in danger. The death of her family loomed in her mind, and fear gave her limbs the swiftness she needed so she _jumped_, _jumped_ again, and was trapped…

She let out a telepathic shriek, and every family member heard her distress broadcasted on the widest imaginable channel, so they fled as far into the deep nest as they could, the Makers attempting to hide them all, camouflaging every member of the family to the best of their ability. Nothing moved on the cube as the captured Ranger considered her fate and awaited death.

* * *

Minnow slapped her comm. badge, thrilled. "Voyager, we got one! Now let's beam the bastard to the lab so we can take a look at it."

"Is that a technical term?" The enquiry was arid as a wasteland.

The scientist swallowed, mouth suddenly parched and attempted a return to dignity. "Er… I apologise –"

"No need, Ensign," responded Tuvok's voice; it held a moderate amount of tolerant amusement. "I am certain that I would also be satisfied that I had acquired a specimen…"

"Yes, sir," she whispered, heartily embarrassed.

"…though perhaps my choice of language might not be quite so…ah… _colourful_."

Minnow remained mortified. "No, sir." She pulled herself together, still reeling from being pilloried by a Vulcan, and dragged her scattered wits into order, of sorts. "Lock on to my co-ordinates, Commander, and the cage signature, please."

Laura Minnow was glad when she appeared in the lab because Delra was already waiting for her with the Doctor and Maxon, so there was no need to explain the colour staining her cheeks, or why the normally oh-so-composed scientist appeared flustered.

Picking the cage up, with the help of Maxon, Delra set it on the table and peered into its depths curiously, with the Doctor a few moments behind her. The sound of the doors swishing heralded the arrival of a larger audience, and they turned to see the Captain, Chakotay and Tuvok make their way into the room.

Janeway gave the scientists a congratulatory smile, and came over to the table, then bent slightly so she could gaze into the interior. "It's hiding, I see," she murmured.

"Yes, ma'am," agreed Maxon. "And very efficiently too."

Curiously, the First Officer lowered his head to take a look as well. "I don't suppose there is any way we can get it to appear? Could we adjust the phase variance so we can see what it is we have here?"

The Doctor, who had been scanning the cage intently, had finished conferring with Minnow, and he glanced up from the readings to respond. "Yes, Commander. Excuse me, please." He inserted himself beside the pen. "Adjusting the console designed by B'Elanna and Seven should – " he ran fingers over the blinking keypad – "allow us to 'see' the creature we've captured." He finally looked satisfied and pronounced, "There. That should do it and, as the table _really_ isn't big enough for us all to get round, I've taken the liberty of transferring the image to the visual display."

"I'm fine here," Chakotay said in hushed tones, staying put and sat on his heels, putting his hands on the table surface so he didn't over balance. The others turned to look at the viewer instead of attempting to get a look through the cage.

The screen showed a greyed out, miserable bundle of fur, curled into a tight ball, quivering, all six legs and its tail somehow covering its snout. The fur radiated, making the beast look as if it was covered from head to paw in tiny, sharp spikes, and as they continued to watch, the screen showed clearly that the nanites were desperately attempting to compensate for their failure in hiding their host.

"Oh, how extraordinary," breathed out Minnow happily, any earlier traces of embarrassment well and truly behind her. "Wow."

"Indeed," said Tuvok with one brow raised; he turned to join Chakotay, and placed a hand on top of the cage, then drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening as the small alien in the cage almost instantly linked telepathically with him. A breath that caused every other person in the room to turn and gaze at him with great alarm.

Chakotay, his brows furrowed in concern, reached for the Vulcan, placing a steadying hand on his arm, and stood to support him. "Is everything all right, Tuvok?"

The Security Chief spread his fingers over the surface of the pen, but managed to nod his head, and placed his other hand on the cage too. His eyes were slightly unfocused, as if there was something important occurring, but he managed to say, "Please look at the screen."

Janeway, too concerned for her friend, stayed by him, a hand on his shoulder, but glanced over to see what it was he wanted to communicate to them. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene displayed and there was a collective sigh as the creature started to appear, _unphased._

The creature had unfurled to reach up a paw to the place the Vulcan's hand was sited, and had made some physical contact with him through the gaps in the wire. All of its whiskers were bristling forward now, and as they continued to watch, it delicately placed a second paw on the skin of his other hand and thrust its long snout with a soft, red-leather nose firmly into the palm. Sleek red fur appeared, banded with grey and sable, and bright, intelligent eyes, redder than its fur.

"Her name," Tuvok breathed out, at last, "is Mikalu."

Exchanging looks, Chakotay and Janeway let their hands fall and, practically as one, crouched in front of the table and peered into the cage again. Mikalu dropped her nose from where it was snuffling and extended her head towards the two humans, chattering at them and showing sharp, white teeth, all her whiskers radiating, then she moved her two front paws and wrapped the digits through the mesh at the front of the cage so she was practically nose to nose with them.

Tuvok, released, drew in another deep breath and conveyed what had been communicated to him. "Open the cage, please, Ensign. Mikalu wishes to retain contact with me so that I can speak for her."

The Captain stood, a slightly alarmed look on her face. "Are you certain that is wise?"

Chakotay, who had extended a finger towards Mikalu, had a delighted smile on his face as a tongue had licked him gently when she came forward to examine him; her ruby eyes glinted as a small head tilted to one side then the other.

"I'll do it," he said, and waved off the Ensign, releasing the electronic latch, opening the door so that the creature could come and stand on his extended arm. She walked up the arm, placing a paw on his bicep, and sniffed his face carefully before chittering, which he took to mean that he should take her to the Vulcan. But he didn't need to as she simply disappeared and reappeared on Tuvok's shoulder.

"A teleporter!" Delra gasped, her excitement was almost too much and she was practically jigging on the spot. The busy snapping open and whirring of various instruments had followed this announcement with unseemly haste.

But Mikalu was unconcerned by the consternation her little display had evoked, as she merely placed a paw on Tuvok's ear, and gazed at them with open curiosity, her long, furred belly exposed.

Tuvok said clearly, speaking at last, "So who, and what, are you?"


	9. Chapter 9

**A.N. I have tried to research Borg history as much as poss. but have hit a pretty decent sized brick wall, so you'll have to excuse me if I have taken a wild guess at origins and some such. It has also seemed to me that a 'society' as sophisticated as the Borg had been about a lot longer than some conjecture, hence my timeline of thousands of years as opposed to hundreds.**

* * *

Mikalu stared hard at the two-legs from her perch on the Vulcan's shoulder, and she moved the paw currently resting on his ear to a spot on his neck, extending her head as she did so. She sniffed, chirring a little sound that held many questions, arranging the information this alien had given her in their brief, but useful, exchange, and relaxed. Tuvok, this was his name, so she had found out, had assured her that his people wished her species no harm and, as she could find no duplicity in his thoughts, she believed him. Mikalu finally allowed her guard to ease completely, and her dainty form relaxed from its stiff posture. She also directed a keen, intelligent look at the female the Vulcan called Captain, or Kathryn, a dichotomy she was as yet unsure of – a rigidity present in his thoughts that she found difficult to relate to, the position being one of friend and also authority, so they sat uneasily together? Mikalu wondered if perhaps in their differences they might yet find their greatest similarities? The holographic projection – yet another curiosity as it seemed to have some significance for this people - was standing close to her, holding an instrument that she recognised as diagnostic so she ignored it, allowing it to complete its task, interested in the conversation taking place.

She listened because the two-legs – human and Vulcan – were speaking, exchanging knowledge in a prodigiously slow manner, when Tuvok could have so easily linked with the female and had the matter done in moments. Mikalu's head came up sharply as something made itself known via her connection with the male; there were two of her species already on the ship, which meant they could only be the missing pups. Relief and anxiety flooded through her in equal quantities, and the emotions alerted the Vulcan.

"Captain, pardon me please." Tuvok stopped talking, and frowned as the little alien chirruped suddenly, her tail bushed out, and her fur spiked again, whiskers quivering in urgency. He directed his attention back to Janeway as she stood waiting patiently. "Mikalu asks if we could take her to sickbay so she might examine our patients. She believes that the two members of her species we have on board are clan pups, and she will be able to discern this if she can inspect the nanites the Doctor has collected, as well as those present on our crew."

Janeway lifted her brows slightly in acknowledgment, with a slight purse of her lips. "That would be useful, Commander. We can discuss this development further when we get to sickbay. Chakotay, you come too." The Captain paused briefly on the threshold, turning back to the biologists. "See what you can get from that redundant piece of equipment, and I think we can remove the others from the cube." She smiled at them warmly. "Well done, all of you, for excellent work."

* * *

The Doctor hovered like an old hen as the officers bore down on his patients, the alien creature bouncing slightly with each step the Vulcan took, her sharp, retractable claws digging into the fabric for purchase. Mikalu's fur was smooth again, the markings showing clearly, and the Captain could get a better look at her as she rode like a queen on Tuvok's shoulder. Chakotay slid a glance over the slender form too, marvelling at her six-limbed structure, and the fierce intelligence in those ruby eyes.

As Janeway observed the furred alien, she felt a sharp recognition in the returned gaze Mikalu directed her way, one that she had used herself, many times, to appraise a situation or person. This little female was wise and experienced, calculated the Captain, and would have much to tell them.

Heaviness pushed against her mind as the alien endeavoured to make a connection with her, but Janeway could only feel the barest hint of intimacy. At times, at _this_ moment, she envied the Security Chief his telepathic ability, and would have welcomed the chance to share something so meaningful with a new species such as the one Mikalu belonged to. There was so much to learn about them, from them, and they were _so_ old – their kind had been assimilated for thousands of years, and she yearned to know more.

Tuvok turned his dark head towards Janeway. "Mikalu regrets she is not able to 'speak' directly to you, Captain, but thinks there may be a way for it to be facilitated, if you would allow this?"

The Captain held out her hand towards the little alien, wondering at the beast's perceptiveness, and had her trust repaid when a soft pad briefly made contact with her skin. "I would like that greatly, Tuvok."

* * *

Mikalu teleported suddenly from her roost, and reappeared between Torres and Paris. Her small form delicately picked its way up to Torres head, and her fur bristled briefly as the nanites that had settled on the woman's skin began to move towards her; Mikalu's second pair of limbs lifted and the watchers saw a thin membrane stretched between them and her body, naked of fur, but brightly striped, and delicate. The tiny machines flooded onto that skin and disappeared beneath its surface, leaving nothing but a faint afterglow that dissipated quickly. Rapt, they watched as Mikalu repeated the process with Paris and Seven, lingering somewhat more on Seven as she had been the one in deepest slumber, and longest in that state, her pelt acquiring more of a nimbus as she continued.

Glowing with a halo of soft light, face illuminated and whiskers at full radial magnificence, Mikalu closed her eyes, and tentatively allowed the nanites that had migrated to her instil the information they had acquired. Shuddering as the strange chemicals leached into her system, her body rapidly began the task of absorbing them, changing them to something her body understood and the memories and thoughts contained within were added to her already vast store of individuality.

_Jumping_, once this stage was complete, she reappeared on Tuvok's shoulder, linking with him instantly. Images streamed from her, and he concentrated on what she was telling him, carefully sorting them into useable form so he would be able to relay them accurately to his non-telepath colleagues as soon as the first part of their task was completed.

Almost hopping from one foot to the other, the Doctor couldn't restrain himself any longer. "Well?" he demanded impatiently, all pretence fled. "What has happened? What about my patients, Commander?"

Tuvok turned hooded and thought fogged eyes on the medic, shaking off the malaise that seemed to overcome him when in close link with Mikalu, and he focused on the answers as they came to him from her. "Your patients will waken, but it could be some hours hence as the nanites have attempted to adjust their body chemistry to correspond with that of ours, and will need some time to transition back to the Rul norm." He paused for a moment before continuing, wondering at the ease with which he had named her species. "Mikalu has taken back the nanites – " in response to this the Doctor had immediately begun to scan the prone figure of Seven – "and she is allowing them to readjust to her own physiology."

Janeway made her way over to Tuvok, followed closely by Chakotay, and she asked, "That easily, Tuvok?"

"Indeed, Captain. Apparently the nanites are aware of better, more suitable, environments, and immediately go where it will suit them best. Mikalu informs me it is because our biology has not integrated them as well as some species common to the Delta quadrant might."

"What about these pups that are still on the ship?" Chakotay wanted to know. He frowned, but extended a finger to Mikalu, who licked it, and affected a coquettish rub of her head against the Vulcan's shoulder. "Where are they? Does Mikalu know yet?"

The Security Chief zoned out slightly again, but bounced back quicker this time, his whole demeanour much more efficient and like his normal self. Aware of his difficulties, Mikalu had adjusted the connection, moderating the stimulus effortlessly, something the Vulcan found deeply fascinating. "No, Commander. Excuse me, please." Tuvok tapped his comm. badge lightly. "Ensign Davis, have you been able to isolate our visitors to a single deck yet?"

The response was crisp and prompt. "Yes, sir. Both aliens are confined to deck six, though we have been unable to confirm precisely where, or narrow it down to a specific point."

"Thank you, Ensign, we will be joining you momentarily, so that will suffice. Tuvok out."

Nodding her satisfaction at this, the Captain looked questioningly at the Doctor, waiting for him to respond to what he had heard the Vulcan say; she could see his body language begin to loosen as he could see there were definite, positive results . "Doctor?"

The hologram finished his inspection of the three patients, and lifted a brow before replying. "All three seem to be recovering faster than I expected and the anomalies I detected are dissipating rapidly. I would imagine they will be back to normal in no time."

"Good," she said crisply, her own efficiency restored in full. "I think we should go now, gentlemen, and join Ensign Davis. On the way, Tuvok, you can tell me a little about the 'Rul', and you, Chakotay, can tell me more about species 43."

The First Officer smiled faintly before he replied. "I'll do my best, Captain."

* * *

Tuvok and Davis walked some way ahead of the Captain and First Officer, making their way down what seemed like an endless corridor, until they came to an intersection that buzzed with the energy of a force field, and several others like it. The Rul female climbed nimbly down from the Security Chief's shoulder, using him like a tree, then hopped down from his waist level onto the floor, briefly opening her flight membrane, so that she glided rather than simply fell. Mikalu adjusted her second pair of legs, so that the humans and Vulcan could now see that it was a vestigial wing, and moved forward until she was nose to nose with the field. A small paw lifted and tested the resilience of the energy, and she chattered slightly.

Tapping his badge gently, Tuvok said, "Release force fields at section thirteen, deck six."

A short burst of noise indicated the field was gone, and Mikalu flowed swiftly across the floor, then settled into a small knot of anticipatory fur. Her companions, at a signal from Tuvok, lowered themselves to the floor and waited.

* * *

Cho'Chil _jumped_, his attempts to leave this area were becoming more desperate, and he felt certain it was only a moment of time before he and Lymab would be captive. The strange two-legs had erected energy matter fields that excluded them very effectively, and stopped them moving freely away from any dangerous areas. In places, there had been traps that were set with cunning, and the ingenuity of this species was something Cho'Chil had to admit was quite formidable. If only he could 'talk' to the Makers, then he would understand, and they would be safe – there was so much information contained in his small body, he was sure he would explode with it. Lymab too, was feeling the need to disgorge all they had learned.

A sudden squeak from Lymab alerted him to the presence of _that_ one, the alien with the so-ordered mind who had interrupted them from the dream, the dream that helped them feel as if _this_ was their true home. A true home, at last. Cho'Chil's mind embraced the thought, and broadcast it, unwittingly, to his sister, who caught it like the fine piece of gossamer it was so she could weave it into the desires of her species, spinning it into a glorious and very nearly palpable reality… The illusion threatened to spill out towards the approaching Vulcan, and engulf him with its beckoning tendrils, but it was blocked, cleanly, as thoroughly as if a wall had been placed there.

_Come to me, children._

Lymab halted her broadcast, withdrawing the telepathic tendrils as soon as she realised the block was far stronger than she, and 'listened'. Cho'Chil was still, and hope stirred in his small, brave form.

_Children, heed me, and come to me. You are safe, be at ease._

A Ranger? _That_ was a Ranger, surely? They both paused, still uncertain, still hesitant, small bodies trembling, their minds locked into an urgent seeking mode, looking for the intimacy of a familial mind touch. There… Again…

_Children… come to me. You are safe and no harm will come to you. Your sister, Mikalu, speaks to you._

Mikalu? Mikalu! The pups were beside themselves with joy as they recognised her mind-signature, and they located her with ease, _jumping_ so they could be by her side, rushing towards her with joy in their hearts.

* * *

The two Rul pups materialised by their sister, who chattered at them angrily, but ran her paws over their fur, sniffing and examining them, allowing them to rub their heads against her as they exchanged nanites, thoughts and scent. Eventually, after some minutes, the tangle of furred bodies separated again into three individuals, and Tuvok, from the floor, with the Captain and Chakotay, watched the blissful greeting taking place before them, caught up themselves in the obvious emotions of the Rul.

"So this," murmured the Captain, "is species 43. I had no idea the Borg assimilated non-humanoid species."

Chakotay, who had allowed one of the pups onto the lower part of his forearm, an orange-pelted little thing with vivid eyes, and rampant curiosity, where it was sniffing at him, excitement showing in every muscle, spoke up. "This isn't species 43, Captain or, at least, not all of it… _them_."

Her head came up sharply, and she rewarded the First Officer with rampant curiosity. "Explain?"

"I concur," said Tuvok, who was still in contact with Mikalu. "The Rul are part of a greater whole, and are what remains of an advanced civilisation that had a collective mind at its centre."

Startled, Janeway let out a sharp breath, having a sudden clarity of vision. "Ah… I see." She thought for a few moments. "At least, I think I do?"

Meanwhile, Tuvok nodded very briefly at his Captain's insight. "Indeed, Captain, I believe that it was the Rul and their companions technology that assisted the Borg in their endeavours towards the hive mind as we know it."

"There was a humanoid component, Captain," agreed Chakotay, "which were assimilated some 4,000 years ago, and have since become extinct as the central processor refers to them as intractable. The Rul, _this_ species being represented by Mikalu and – " he stroked a forefinger along a fox-coloured back, a small smile on his mouth – "these youngsters here, are what remains of an extraordinary civilisation that was in existence for 7,500 years." He shook his head in horror at his next words. "The Borg took hours to destroy them, and hunted down the majority of their colonies within months."

Janeway turned saddened eyes on Mikalu, and the Rul female chirped something at her, walked over to her and laid a pad on her knee. The human woman ran her fingers over the svelte head, and Mikalu sighed, a perceptible moment they could share and acknowledge within each other. There was, indeed, much they could relate to, and for some moments human and Rul contemplated how it was that one species could survive the onslaught of the Borg, but another could not.

Coming to a decision in that moment, the Captain turned to Tuvok and stated firmly, "I'm ready. Tell Mikalu I would like to learn all she has to tell us, and we will help her and her species as much as we can."


	10. Chapter 10

**A.N. This bit contains a fair bit of info about the Rul, but not all of it - yet. (cackles evilly) However, if you can't be doing with my aliens then you might wanna skip this altogether.**

* * *

The cabin was calm, the lights dimmed so Mikalu would feel comfortable, and the ambient heating had been upped a notch or two, meaning the two humans in the room had taken their jackets off so they could be relaxed too. On Janeway's bed, Lymab and Cho'Chil watched their Ranger sister as she prepared to bring Chakotay and the Captain into the dream they had shared with Seven, B'Elanna and Tom, and Tuvok sat with the Rul female on his lap, her paws sited in the palm of one hand. At a signal from Mikalu, he removed his hand from under her paws, and steepled them for a moment, allowing the nanites on his fingers to spread thinly across his skin.

Chakotay reached over to touch Mikalu's fur, as did Janeway, and Tuvok gently applied his fingers to their meld points, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair as they leant into him. His face grim, the Doctor stood watching, with arms folded tightly, while Delra, Maxon and Minnow made themselves busy taking readings, and inputting it into PADDs as fluctuations occurred.

Eyes closed, Janeway waited, settling into the stillness that was disturbed only by the faint hum of the ship's great engines as they continued to orbit the planet. Nothing was happening at the moment and she felt some anxiety that this would fail, as well as a little frustrated, that her lack of telepathic ability was going to hinder this extraordinary connection, but was determined to try harder, so she focused. She remembered the dream-quest she had undertaken, recalled her scepticism about a spiritual journey being anything but fanciful, and finding the answers she'd needed had surprised her. After all, she was a scientist first and therefore there was _no_ paradigm when you spoke of spiritual matters, but _this_ was no spiritual journey, so she quelled her concerns and waited. And then she felt it begin to seep into her awareness, transporting her into the unknown, the novel and strange…

Delra mumbled something softly to Minnow, and she flicked open her tricorder again as Lymab and Cho'Chil came and joined the others. A soft mist-like halo began to spread over the participants, and it ebbed, tide-like, at first gently, but building to a flickering crescendo of radiance made of jewel-like colours that muted and faded only to brighten again.

The First Officer felt himself falling…

_… into brilliance, and ahead of them stretched the plains of a desert with the savage undulation of dunes, and the soughing of a hot breeze. An outcropping of fronds, their stems woody and darkly purple, hints of green and yellow peppering strand-like leaves that whipped, cracking like gunfire in the wind when it gusted, and an oasis of diamond bright water whose surface glimmered where the zephyr touched its surface. Silver-petaled flowers nodded great heads, drooping with the heat, offering shade and a cool place to hide or, to rest. About the oasis there were tents in many bright shades, red, orange, turquoise, green, billowing as the air passed through them, lit with a strange glow, and Chakotay looked around for his companions before heading towards them. He did not find his friends at first, but then a small bright presence made herself known, and he learnt her name at last, Lymab, so he followed her, doing as she bid him._

_She bled towards the first tent, a great scarlet awning, leaving a trail of radiance, the folds at the entrance flapped bidding him enter, the rays of the sun piercing the gloom and he followed her inside. Tuvok sat silent within, deep in thought, Janeway at his flank, also silent, and waiting._

_A bright cloud hovered close by them both, and he knew this as Mikalu, and the hovering mist that rested scant centimetres from both Captain and Security Chief was the second of the smaller aliens, a sparkling fog who named himself Cho'Chil. Chakotay joined them, and seated himself, not questioning anything he saw, as this was __**his**__ way, open to all that might be._

_Each mind slowed, accepting the vivid scenes now playing across their psyche and a history tumbled like a thunderstorm's rains…_

_A searing, bright sun shone fiercely down upon a world with many deserts, hot and arid, but hauntingly beautiful, where strange avians flew on metallic skinned wings, and plants grew in knots around the rare oases, blooming seldom but with a loveliness to defy any that doubted such exquisiteness could exist, perfuming the air for kilometres around while scorching winds sighed across the sands. The poles were more temperate, and it was here, in lush golden pastures and open plains, amid grand lakes that a species of humanoids evolved and grew to dominance on their planet. But, they were lonely in their intelligence, so they looked inward to their home world, and found two other species that would eventually become their companions, the Rul and the leev'tr, and they helped them to sentience, building on the skills each species had – telepathy, teleportation, flight - and developed a civilisation of great endurance, and remarkable co-operation. _

_Great serpent like creatures the leev'tr were, winged, with massive jaws and fierce golden eyes, their skin rippling with a myriad colours, softly furred, and they were the first to be companion to the Gythve. They sang their songs together for a millennium, weaving a new existence until, once more, they became lonely and looked inwards to their home for others to share their joy. Wise beyond imagining, it was the leev'tr that imagined how the civilisation would proceed, they that formed the central government of their home, and they that saw the Rul as the way. The Rul brought the joy of unquenchable curiosity to the other companions, and a deep thirst for knowledge. It was once the Rul came that the civilisation expanded, and went out to the stars, and it was the Gythve, the Makers, with their ingenuity and nimble fingers, that brought the thoughts and dreams of their companions into being. Together they became the Gythve'leev'u'Rul, and together they ventured into space in great, opalescent, ships with sails that caught the merest breath of solar winds, propelling them to new destinations, exploration and great discoveries_

_For thousands of years, countless centuries, their society reigned supreme, spreading thinly through their local space, for their needs were few, and their home world was what called them – the deserts, the lakes, the vast plains of gold and their cities with spires that reached high into the sky. Technology grew apace with the civilisation, bringing the very first neural interface that allowed the Gythve'leev'u'Rul to link in ways that had never been possible before, and for all three species to reap the benefit of telepathy, and teleportation._

_Flashing before the Starfleet Officers came more imagery, of great cities, of pathways to neighbouring planets and stars, but Janeway felt compelled to ask, finally, "The Borg, what happened?"_

_The pictures changed, events unravelled before them, and they were caught in the wasting of a world…_

_…the humanoid is named Verthi, and she spreads her fingers across the smooth, crystalline interface of her control panel and her Rul companion alights to her shoulder. Mituu is his name, and their leev'tr companion, K'ysu, uncoils enough of his body length from his resting bars to finish assessing what is happening. The screen before them is opaque, and shows the unknown ship that has pursued them ever since they entered this region, its odd configuration no longer a curiosity but a threat. **Never** have they felt so perplexed. K'ysu rattles his pinions, settling his wings into neat folds as he moves decisively to his partners, the dull platinum of his scales reflective in the blue lights of the bridge, but the fine fur of his body is ruffled in anxiety. A single claw is extended from his massive foot, and Verthi directs her attention along it, afraid now, as she understands what he has fully recognised, for the first time; she grasps his muzzle for support and tears begin to flow from her slitted emerald eyes, her soft, fine hide showing her despair. Mituu hides, teleporting from his life-long friend in despair._

_These aliens are relentless, without emotion, driven, and more cruel, in their unthinking subjugation of other species, than **any** would be conqueror…_

_Captain and officers '__**hear**__' the Borg demand compliance from this one ship, and know there is no way that it can withstand the might of what stands before it. The beings aboard attempt to nullify the penetrating beams that cut through their defences as if they were wet paper, to no avail, and it is the work of moments for drones to come aboard and attempt assimilation of this species. They ignore the Rul and kill K'ysu, and as Vethri lays her body over his fading light, her soul in tatters, they inject her with nanites. The first…_

…_change…_

…_the planet lies burning, huge craters where once noble cities soared, and the dead are piled in ignominious heaps, or lie where they fell. The leev'tr are no more, and the Rul grieve for the Makers and for themselves for they are less without those gracious beings, and the sound of their songs will be remembered only by the Rul, for the Gythve'leev'u'Rul exists only in memory.  
_

_Centuries pass, but species 43 retain some of their individuality, it is unavoidable as the Rul have come with them, and they have adapted to the strange new environment with the help of the nanites favoured by the Borg. Eventually, the Makers all die out, or are killed, but not before they learn how to transfer their consciousness so that they are available for all time to their selfless friends. The Rul learn to hide, to adjust further, and thus ensure the survival of their species so that the Borg have to abandon or scourge a vessel, for this is the way to ensure their companions will never be forgotten; they thrive, and the Makers are with them in the deep nest._

_And so the Rul continue, relegated to the level of parasite, but remembering a time when they sailed with their companions across star fields, sheltering in desert tents listening to the music the deserts of their home world made, and longing for the clean air and rich loam of the plains._

Tuvok released the meld, and Janeway came away from his fingers, tears in her eyes. Her hand strayed unthinkingly into a caress of the furred head closest to her, and water dropped onto Mikalu's coat as she caught a sob in her throat. Chakotay was a graven image, as he too swallowed, settling Cho'Chil into the crook of an arm, his free hand soothing the ruffled fur.

"What now, Captain?" he asked, oblivious to the scientists and the medic, intent only on the aliens, and what Voyager could do to help.

Tuvok gazed down at Mikalu, who was chattering at him again in a most agitated manner. "Mikalu is quite determined that we go back to the cube and meet the Makers. Her mother and father will instigate this, but she will need to prepare us for our journey to the deep nest, as we will be the first outsiders to have access to it for three centuries."

"How many deep nests are there, Tuvok?" wondered the Captain, her composure back, and her feelings under control once more.

"One," said the Vulcan with conviction. "_This_ is the only deep nest. All other colonies have only been able to establish themselves in a small way before being eradicated, and this cube was abandoned some five hundred years ago." Mikalu placed her paws on his chest, raising her vestigial wings slightly, and looked him in the eyes; Tuvok's brow lifted. "It would seem that the Makers were impressively resistant and this is the reason the Borg abandoned this cube."

Janeway smiled grimly. "I'm grateful for that." She smiled down at Lymab, who had blissfully curled in her lap, and who now offered a trill to her that indicated deep contentment. Looking up, she said, "We'll transport our friends back to the cube and they can prepare the colony for us to come and visit."

* * *

The long road back to reality seemed to come to an abrupt, and extremely unwelcome, end for B'Elanna. Harsh lighting overhead burned through her eyelids, so she tried to hold onto the dream, and the feeling of euphoria she'd had while there, willing herself back to unconsciousness. Noise, brutal and insistent, intruded on her concentration and each sense, however, and the woman surfaced, a reluctant inhabitant, into sickbay, with the unrelenting bleep of monitors filling her ears, and the hard planes of the biobed beneath her serving to make the dream fade, passing into nothingness, leaving her cold and unsure of everything.

Eyelids fluttering open, she found herself looking into the concerned face of an Ensign the Doctor had recently assigned to assist him. Torres grimaced slightly, and shivered from the sudden chill that bit hard at her bones.

"Don't move, Lieutenant. Just let me check you over and let the Doctor know you've come round," the Ensign said, efficiently scanning the engineer, and projecting empathic waves towards her.

B'Elanna grunted, but rose slightly onto her elbows so she could look around the room. She could see Tom next to her, stirring slightly as he too made it back to the world, and across from them, Seven was sitting on the biobed with a bemused expression on her face, her feet curled up under her.

"I'm fine," she said, suddenly irritated by the Ensign, and attempted to sit up properly, but found herself weaker than she thought. Something occurred to her, and she asked, "How long have I been here, Ensign?"

"Fifteen hours, Lieutenant."

"Fifteen hours?" The question came out as a squeak, almost. "But I only went to bed a little while ago."

Blue eyes regarded her sympathetically, but were adamant, and the tone, final, brooking no argument. "Fifteen hours, I'm afraid."

Stunned into silence, B'Elanna lay back again and stared at the ceiling, but then rolled onto her side to watch the Ensign as he pottered about sickbay, moving on quiet feet with an economy she found fascinating. It reminded her of something…

…_Sun flaring as it glinted off the sides of a metallic nightmare, hanging in bleak misery, a charnel house…_

…_swift movement, and the smell of flowers blooming… hot, desert sands…belonging…_

B'Elanna gasped and sat up, her eyes wide, and the officer stopped what he was doing to come straight over to her. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and he grabbed her as she stumbled against it, and leant back, all her weight supported by a tight grip.

"Lieutenant?"

Torres nodded, indicating she was fine, and she held his arm gratefully, even though a twinge of annoyance at being caught at such a weak moment had galloped through her. She found the anger gave her some strength, and she sucked in a breath before shaking him off and standing on her own two feet.

"I'm fine." Torres tugged her top straight, and then asked, "What happened while I've been… ah… sleeping, Pierre?"

"First contact," grinned the Ensign, "and it was a doozy, I can tell you. Telepathic, teleporting aliens with special nanites to help link them to the Borg machines."

"First contact," she repeated, puzzled. "You mean those little critters that are on that damn cube?"

"Absolutely."

Torres gave him a hard look through narrowed eyes. "What happened to me, _exactly_, Pierre, and no hedging or I swear I'll break your arm."

"Right," he responded cheerfully, and ignored her, tapping his insignia. "Doc, they're awake now." Pierre winked at her, and asked, "Do you recall dreaming at all, Lieutenant?"

B'Elanna frowned as she tried to remember, and then the sudden recollection of what had jolted her as she was wakening came back to her. "Oh yes, definitely, and really strange too."

"Mmmhmm," he agreed. "That'll be the residual telepathic contact you had with the Rul, as they fired up your cortex good and proper, but –" the mediscanner whirred as he passed it over her, and he raised a brow – "you're starting to have blood chemistry that is well within normal parameters for you."

"How's Tom?" she wanted to know, and slid off the biobed to go to him; she took a hand in her own.

"Doing good."

The sickbay doors hissed open and the Doctor appeared, carrying what appeared to be a small furry stole draped over one shoulder. This soon turned out to be an assumption she was wrong about, and as he reached her the 'stole' looked up at her with sparkling eyes, and chattered mischievously.

"Ah, B'Elanna," greeted the Doctor. "You seem to have made an excellent recovery, and should be fit for duty in a few hours."

Torres continued to stare at the alien, barely paying the medic any attention, aware that she was being studied just as intensely, so she reluctantly turned to him and asked, "This is the –" she searched for the name that Pierre had used, rubbing her chin thoughtfully – "species on the cube – a Rul, the Rul?"

"She is," agreed the hologram, a tight smile on his mouth. "And her name is Lymab. She asked to come to see you as it was she you were in contact with during the dream." He sighed regretfully. "However, I am unable to connect with her and it is Tuvok that reassures me she wishes this."

Putting a hand out, the Klingon woman had her fingers licked and contact was made once more.


End file.
